By the Book
by adesso
Summary: Germany has done the research, read all the books, made all the preparations - everything will go according to plan. Except Italy does not do so well with plans.


**Author's Note: **I strongly urge you, before reading this fic, to go to YouTube and search for the song "Be Italian," from the musical _Nine_. Trust me. It is relevant to your interests.

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**By the Book**

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It would happen two nights from now.

Tonight he would perform a test run, to judge how well his plan would work and to compensate for any complications that his subject might spring upon him. Of course, he could only prepare himself so much, considering the high level of complications his subject could unleash upon the world; but Germany had charted this meticulously, and he was confident that he would persevere!

Right now his subject observed him from across the table, his chin in his hand, sucking the remains of sorbet off of his spoon. "You're frowning extra hard tonight."

Germany, who just then realized he had been staring rather adamantly at his barely-touched dessert, looked up in surprise. "Er," he said, at a loss for actual words.

Italy tilted his head, tapping the cleaned spoon against his lips. To his credit, he was trying very hard not to smile. "You went through all this trouble to make a really nice meal for us and then you go and spend the whole night _thinking_!"

He could have yelled in response. But that would have been the easy way out, and no doubt one with unsatisfactory results. All the books had said to be patient! Patient and gentle. It does not do to startle one's partner, especially at such a defining point in the relationship.

So Germany squared his shoulders as he revisited the hypothesis he had formed after reviewing his research: He would have to utilize the most romantic setting and the gentlest behaviors in order to experience a successful "first night" with Italy.

"Ah, so," he began, dragging his gaze up to meet Italy's and actually _keeping _it there. "Did you enjoy the meal?"

Italy grinned and nodded. "Mm, yes!" He closed his eyes and raised his chin, holding his spoon in the air with a noble mien. "The _Schweinebraten _was very tasty."

Germany smiled; he knew Italy had worked hard on that one, after receiving a lecture on proper German pronunciations (Germany, similarly, had perfected "_chiacchiera_" and other tricky "_ch_" words). "I am glad it was to your liking. I know you have… high standards. For that sort of thing."

Italy's eyebrows disappeared beneath his bangs, only briefly, before he squinted at Germany, then at the sorbet, now mostly liquid, in his bowl. "The sorbet is very good and you haven't eaten any of it."

Before Germany could muster a response, Italy leaned across the table and dipped his spoon into the dessert. Germany's mouth was hanging open slightly, and Italy put a finger to his bottom lip and pressed down, opening it the rest of the way and allowing the spoon in. Germany barely had the clarity of mind to close his mouth around the quickly melting sorbet as Italy slipped the spoon out from between his lips. He closed his eyes, holding the liquid on his tongue, and only when he felt Italy's lips hot against his own did he swallow. Very hard.

He opened his eyes in time to see Italy sitting back in his chair, dragging his tongue across his mouth to catch the sticky-sweet remnants he'd caught from Germany's lips. Italy slouched down, draping his arm across the back of his chair and observing Germany with a languid smile.

"Ah… thank you," was the only thing Germany could think to say.

Italy's eyes went wide, and he sat up "Then you are ready?"

Alarms went off in Germany's head.

Italy surged forward and grabbed his hands, pulling them across the table to press them to his flushed cheeks. "Oh I've been waiting for you to be ready and it has been so difficult but I knew I had to wait because you are so shy about these things and I didn't want to startle you!"

Germany attempted to assemble some sort of plan for damage control. Derailments he had anticipated; but he had not expected the plan to be derailed so thoroughly that it would be dragged across town to another set of tracks.

But Italy was on the offensive, rising from his chair and slinking towards and behind him. He wrapped his arms around Germany, sliding his hands down to rest upon his chest. He lips brushed against Germany's ear when he murmured, "_So – _what do you want us to do now?"

Germany, feeling Italy's hot breath on his ear and his fingers making slow circles on his chest – he had a few things in mind. But he also wanted to avoid any mistakes, especially so early in the event. So he pulled the pocket-sized manual from inside his jacket and began to leaf through it.

Italy looked at the book long enough to read the title before snatching it from Germany's hands and tossing it over his shoulder. Then, as if to silence the protest Germany was ready to make, Italy took hold of his chin and tilted it up and kissed him.

The kiss was brief, but it was enough to silence him while Italy trailed his lips along his jaw – then, pressing their cheeks together, he blew very lightly along the edge of Germany's ear, sending a wave of heat shuddering through him to settle between his legs. He sucked in a deep breath, and Italy laughed against his neck. He slipped around the chair and threw one leg over Germany, straddling him, placing his hands on either side of Germany's face.

"What do you _want_?" He emphasized the last word with a slow, deliberate rotation of his hips against Germany.

"I want…" His wide eyes stared straight ahead at Italy's chest, and he clenched and unclenched his fists because he did not know where his hands were supposed to go at this point. His words came out in a rush. "I want that manual back so I can know what to do next."

A groan rumbled in Italy's throat as he threw his head back in exasperation, his voice straining under the weight of his distress. "That is so _sad_, Germany!" When he rolled his head forward again to look at Germany, it was with a stern glare. He placed his hands on his hips. "Now listen. No lover of mine is going to learn about romance from some _manual_! You don't need a book to know how to make love!" He pressed his fingertips to Germany's lips. "You just need these." With his other hand he snatched one of Germany's, still hovering awkwardly beside Italy, and he brought it over to his own lips to kiss the palm. "And you need these." Without warning, he dropped his hand from Germany's mouth, down, to grasp between his legs. "And _this_."

It all happened in a dizzying blur, and Germany could only stare wide-eyed, his back rigid, his ever-growing erection straining against his pants. But then Italy leaned forward to where their noses almost touched, smiling as he brought both his hands to rest gently on Germany's chest. "But mostly you need _this_, and you have so much of it, it is so big and warm that maybe it would make up for you not having one of the other things."

He kissed Germany, his lips slow and soft, and Germany found himself sighing against his mouth. His heart pounded against Italy's warm fingertips, and it took a moment for him to start wondering when Italy had unbuttoned his shirt.

Italy trailed his fingers down the muscles of Germany's stomach and leaned deeper into the kiss. Germany felt the moist press of Italy's tongue against his mouth; sucking in a sharp breath through his nose, he parted his lips to let Italy's tongue slip through. A shudder coursed through him as he felt the tongue against his own, and Italy's hands sliding along his sides, beneath his pants and down to his hips.

"Germania," Italy murmured, his breath hot inside Germany's mouth. "Germania, you aren't touching me."

He licked his lips and swallowed. "Shouldn't… shouldn't we be in the bedroom?"

Italy pulled away, frowning. But then his eyebrows shot up in comprehension. "Oh! Well, I suppose…" He giggled, kissing the tip of Germany's nose. "We should keep things simple the first time, yes?"

He stood and took Germany's hands, pulling him out of the chair and down the hallway towards the bedroom. When they were inside, he pushed the door closed with his foot, then threw his arms around Germany and kissed him fiercely.

Germany placed his hands on Italy's sides and shuffled his feet back in an attempt to maneuver towards the bed. He had a good idea of how this should go: he should lower his partner onto the bed, slowly and gently, minding that their head didn't—

Italy threw all his weight against Germany and sent him toppling back onto the bed, with his head hanging over the side. He then gave a high, faint giggle before pouncing atop Germany.

He went for Germany's exposed neck, tracing open-mouthed kisses down towards his collarbone, pausing occasionally to suck at the skin, with the faintest scrape of teeth. Germany closed his eyes at the touches and found himself arching his back – and then Italy lowered himself so that their hips brushed, and Germany felt a firmness against his own, and he groaned at the heat pressing down upon him.

"Yes," Italy whispered, grinding slowly against him. "Yes, you can touch me with that, and touch me other places too."

Germany sucked in a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. His hands, again, were hovering around Italy's sides while he tried to decide where to put them. "Where?" he asked, his voice so thick and strained it was nearly a grunt.

Italy brought his face over Germany's, smiling with heavy-lidded eyes. "Wherever you want."

Germany pursed his lips in thought, flexing his fingers before he slowly moved them up the length of Italy's body. With reverence, as if cradling some precious piece of art, he placed them on either side of Italy's face, letting his thumbs rest inside the creases of Italy's upturned lips, his smile that was not so seductive, having melted into something softer.

"Oh Germania," he breathed, leaning into the touch, bringing his hand up to press his fingers against the pounding of Germany's chest. "This, having so much of this, you will make your lover so happy!"

Italy was nestled between Germany's legs, and he could feel the firm heat throbbing against him. He let out a rattling breath.

"I want—" Italy picked that moment to shift his hips with painstaking care, rubbing their cocks fully together even through their pants, and Germany's words caught in his throat and instead became a gasp.

"Yes, Germania?" Italy purred – ah, there, the smile had turned hungry again. "Do you know what you want now?"

"I want—" Germany slid his hands down to grip Italy's shoulders. "I want you to tell me what to do."

Italy, his smile twisting to the side, placed his hands on Germany's chest and pushed himself up. "Better," he said, bending his knees to move them under and spread Germany's thighs. "I will show you."

His fingers danced over the muscles of Germany's stomach, trailing down until they reached his belt. He lowered his head so that his lips could follow the path his fingers had just made while he unbuckled the belt, ripping it from the loops and flinging it aside. The breath from Italy's nose tickled the skin below Germany's belly button, and—Germany was not looking, his eyes were tightly shut, but considering Italy's hands were now busy squeezing between the bed and his rear, he could only assume his pants were being unbuttoned through other means.

After he had slid Germany's pants off, Italy very quickly removed his own and kicked them onto the floor. Germany took the opportunity to shift to a more appropriate location on the bed, with his head on the pillow where it belonged. Italy hovered over him again, but reached out to open a drawer in the bedside table, rummaging around until he pulled out a small bottle.

Italy took Germany's wrist and gave it a tug, and Germany obligingly raised himself up while Italy poured some of the oil out onto his fingers. Putting his free hand on the back of Germany's neck, Italy leaned forward to trail eager kisses along his jaw, making his way back to his ear. Germany did not realize he had tensed until he melted into the warmth of Italy's tongue on his earlobe. It was as Italy nibbled his ear that he finally felt the fingers slip inside him, in a slow circular motion, probing deeper and deeper until—

"Ah!" Germany could not stop the gasp, could not stop himself from thrusting against Italy's fingers, overcome by the urge to get closer, for more of _that_—

To Italy's credit, he did not laugh aloud, but Germany could feel his lips smiling against his neck, little huffs of breath hot on his skin. He pulled his fingers out and used the other hand to push Germany back onto the bed.

"We will go slow this time," he whispered, breathless, pulling one of Germany's legs up as he nudged his hips closer, "so that I can watch you!"

Any other time, Germany might have been irritated by that, how his inexperience was clearly a source of great pleasure for Italy; but he now felt a gnawing emptiness without Italy inside him, an all-consuming yearning that was suppressing most coherent thoughts. He wrapped his other leg around Italy's waist while Italy placed his hands on Germany's hips. Italy bent down to press a slow kiss to Germany's chest, but he lifted his head and smiled at Germany, watching him intently as he pushed himself in.

-

Italy let out a contented sigh as he curled up against Germany, who was lying flat on his back and staring unblinkingly at the dark ceiling. His arms were straight at his sides, so Italy squirmed underneath one so that it was almost like Germany had an arm around him.

The fair hairs on Germany's chest raised as Italy very lightly traced circles over his skin. Germany sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a long, ragged sigh. Italy propped his chin up on Germany's shoulder.

"What do you think? Did you enjoy it? Did it make you happy?"

"It was…" Germany blinked at last, several times, and gave Italy the briefest of sidelong glances. His cheeks were already flushed and it was very dark, so perhaps Italy would not notice the blush. "Nice."

Italy sat up, his eyes wide with horror. "'Nice'? It was only 'nice'?" His fingers dug into Germany's stomach as he clenched them into fists, shaking his head. "Oh no no no, I will have to try much harder next time! I wanted it to be very wonderful for you but maybe I--"

Germany grabbed hold of his wrists and put on his best Inside a Charging Tank is No Place to Panic voice. "CALM, Venedig!" Italy's tirade was immediately stifled as he snapped his mouth shut and sat up straight, and Germany was sure his hand would have flown up into a reflexive salute if his wrists were not currently held in place. "I… misspoke. It was… I very much…"

Italy lowered himself again, laying right atop Germany, and silenced him with smiling lips against his. "I see!" he said when he pulled out of the kiss. "You're not so good at talking when you're very happy."

"I speak fine," Germany replied with a frown. "But not everyone is so open about their feelings as you."

"I know." Italy nuzzled against the bend of Germany's neck. "I forget sometimes." As Germany let his hands rest on Italy's shoulder blades, he continued, "Now we'll rest so I can teach you lots more things in the morning."

Germany swallowed. "In the… morning?"

"Mm-hm! We'll stay in bed all day so you can learn as much as you can! And maybe you will teach me things, too!" He poked Germany in the side. "And your paperwork will have to wait because this is much more important."

Germany glanced down at the tousled head of chestnut resting just below his chin. "Venedig, you… this was not your first time?"

Italy tilted his head up, making a thoughtful noise that hummed against Germany's breast. "Ah… well, not really, I guess!"

Germany huffed out a sigh through his nose, muttering, "It is not something you should be ambiguous about."

Italy gave a shrug as he squeezed his arms underneath Germany, bringing his hands up to clutch Germany's shoulders. "I just don't remember those times very well. Because they weren't important."

He kissed Germany's neck. "This time I will remember."


End file.
